


Lights Go Out

by Las



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: stop_drop_howl, F/F, Fingerfucking, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Las/pseuds/Las
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between 2x10 and 2x11. "You wanna stop?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Go Out

 Sitting back against the headboard on Lydia's bed, Allison forgets if this is her second or third drink, and then something clicks into place as  Lydia straddles Allison's lap and kisses her. Unexpected behavior has her thinking 'werewolf' these days, and Allison's hand immediately goes to Lydia's side, above her hip, where she was bit. Immune, they say, sure, but who knows? Allison certainly doesn't. For all she knows, this is a dormant volcano, and one day Murphy's Law will turn her best friend into a monster and Allison will be the one to put her down.

 It's this thought that gives her the clarity of mind to break the kiss.

 "What?" Lydia says breathlessly, her cheeks flushed, and Allison knows she probably looks as red. They both flush when they've been drinking, and there are countless blurry phone pictures to prove it. Lydia still tastes of coconut rum, which Allison has repeatedly told her is the worst of rums, but when Lydia offered her a glass instead of any interest in doing history homework, she accepted. 

 "You wanna stop?" Lydia asks. The challenge in her voice confuses Allison. Where would it come from? But then again they've been out of touch recently, for various terrible reasons. There is now much Lydia doesn't know about Allison, so perhaps the inverse is also true.

 "We should probably stop," Allison says, and there are dozens of reasons why - like history homework, like the fact that this is not what best friends do, maybe. Probably. Not like Allison have much experience in that department; she's never really had a best friend before. How many secrets can you keep from someone and still call them your best friend?

 Lydia tucks a lock of hair behind Allison's ear, and she is treated to the rare sight of Lydia's sharpness melting away. She is studying Allison not with hungry curiosity, but with the viscous affection of a girl who is taking her time because she knows she is close to getting what she wants. Allison recognizes the frankness of her tenderness. She's used it on Scott, and it is the combination of Lydia's knowing eyes and the memory of his smile that disarms her. The light touch along Allison's cheek does what Lydia wants it too, and she feels a pang of lust flare in the pit of her stomach. 

Allison parries the lust into an embrace, sliding her arms around Lydia's waist and closing her eyes as she pulls Lydia in closer. She rests her cheek upon Lydia's chest. 

 Sure, everyone's picked up a manic edge this year, but Lydia is a civilian and she's supposed to be sheltered from the worst of it. Yet here they are, stumbling into each other like they're both the damage and the damaged. Is it the bite making Lydia act this way? Is this displacement of her Jackson issues? Is it something else? In realizing that Allison doesn't know which is more likely, a lightbulb flickers on in her head, an epiphany in the form of questions: when was the last time the two of them really talked? And who do they have left to talk to?

 "Is this about Jackson?" Allison asks, picking the least explosive query.

 Lydia runs her fingers through Allison's hair, and Allison feels it against her cheek when Lydia laughs. "No. No."

 Her tone is weird, but Allison isn't looking at her face so she can't tell if she's lying. 

 "Is this about Scott?" Lydia counters.

 " _You_ kissed  _me_. It's about you."

 "You kissed back," she points out. "Listen. Look at me. Allison."

 So she does. Allison raises her head and waits for a logical next step to appear, because although she can handle shooting arrows at her classmates and she can handle killing them if it had come to it, it is tenderness that undoes her now. She is ripe for it, has been ready for it the way people who try not to want it are. There are not many people left that Allison can trust, and she is achingly aware that Lydia is not one of them anymore, but right now she is the one combing her fingers through Allison's hair, so perhaps she can make an allowance this one time.

 "If you didn't want this," Lydia says, and kisses Allison's forehead, then her cheek. "If you didn't want this, you'd have told me to get off your lap a while ago."

 Allison has been called out, and the sound she makes is halfway between relief and need. She only has to turn her head slightly to kiss Lydia again.

 "It doesn't have to be a thing," Lydia murmurs against Allison's lips. "We can just--It doesn't have to be--"

 "Okay," Allison says, understanding. "Okay."

 Allison slides her hands under Lydia's shirt, tentative, giving her time to say no, but Lydia just continues sucking on Allison's bottom lip and leans into her touch. Allison slides her palms higher and higher, and Lydia isn't wearing a bra. Allison knew she isn't, she could tell, but now it lights her up like nothing else, and Lydia moans into her mouth when she cups one breast and thumbs her nipple. Lydia tilts her head back, slowly, slowly, and Allison's mouth trails from her lips to her jaw, down her neck as Lydia exposes it to her. Allison tastes the bitter chemical of Lydia's perfume. She smells like Burberry Weekend. Allison leaves wet kisses along her neck down to the hollow of her throat, and meanwhile she moves her thumb in slow circles over Lydia's nipple, pinching it occasionally, a soft pinch that turns into rolling it gently between thumb and forefinger and makes Lydia whimper. 

 Allison mouths down from her collarbone to her chest, and slides one arm around Lydia to support her, taking her weight as she leans back, but when Allison glances up, Lydia is looking her, eyes gone dark with arousal, anticipation. Allison can't resist. She touches the tip of her tongue to Lydia's other nipple over the fabric of her shirt, rubs the fabric against her nipple with her tongue, and Lydia sucks in a breath and gasps out little "oh" sounds that go straight to the desire pooling in Allison's gut.

 Both arms go around Lydia and pull her closer, pushing her up, all the better to close her lips around Lydia's nipple and suck. Allison keeps the suction steady as she teases with her tongue. Lydia digs her fingers into Allison's shoulders and it hurts, but who cares? She's too caught up in this, in the taste and the feel and the sounds Lydia makes. 

 Lydia's booty shorts mean easy access. It's those purple ones she wears for pajamas during sleepovers - still casual, but with the performance of mischief that she wears well when she wants to. Shifting her grip, Allison moves her right hand up Lydia's thigh, and she moans when Allison slides her hand up her shorts and her thumb slips beneath her panties. Lydia is so wet, holy fuck, so fucking wet, and Allison is still just running her thumb up and down her labia without pushing in. 

 "Take off your shirt," Allison says, and it does something to her, seeing Lydia obey with such alacrity. The shirt is tossed somewhere beyond the bed, and Lydia is not very subtle about sticking her chest back in Allison's face, a not very subtle request. Allison, fascinated, nuzzles one breast as she kisses Lydia's cleavage, then plays it off as starting a trail of kisses to a nipple, which she only kisses around and does not touch and does not touch until Lydia takes matters into her own hands and orders her to suck it. So she does.

 Meanwhile, Allison's right hand is still taking its time, sliding her fingers up and down, and with every pass, she pushes inside just a little bit, where it's hot and wet, and Lydia is raring for it, opening her legs wider. Allison's fingers flit lightly over Lydia's clit, and Lydia curses in one shuddering exhale. But Allison's neck is cramping, and Lydia doesn't look that much more comfortable in her position, so Allison orders, "Turn around."

 "What?"

 "Turn around. We're doing this reverse cowgirl style."

 "...What?"

 "Come on."

 Lydia lets Allison maneuver her, if only because the quicker they do this transition, the faster they can get back to business. Lydia sits on Allison's lap, leaning back against her chest as Allison slips one hand into her shorts, two fingers sliding between her labia and Lydia's clit rubs against their slow progress down, down, and up, and down until Lydia is gasping, until Allison has to remind her to be quiet.

 "Play with your nipples," she whispers in Lydia's ear, and Allison wouldn't have thought it possible for Lydia to blush a deeper shade of red, but she does. "Do you not want to?"

 "I--" and then Lydia gasps as Allison circles her fingers around Lydia's clit. "I want to, I--oh god, I--I want to."

 So she does.

 Allison's other hand slips into Lydia's shorts through the leg hole, and she opens Lydia up, gets her fingers wet with her as she fucks Lydia with three fingers, slow but thorough as her other hand teases her clit.

 "Faster?" Allison asks softly. "Slower?"

 "No," Lydia murmurs as she pinches and pulls at her own nipples, already red and raw. "No, I'm... Slower. Go slower," because she's already close to orgasm. She is on the verge. " _Slow_."

 Allison does her best, but it doesn't take long, and when it happens, neither of them fight it. "Oh god," Lydia breathes, curling her toes, tensing all her body in anticipation. "Oh god," she whimpers, and Allison doesn't speed up, doesn't slow down, just continues her pace coaxing out the inevitable. Lydia stops playing with her nipples and digs her fingers into Allison's legs, close, so close, and Allison kisses Lydia's neck, nibbles her earlobe, and whispers what else she wants to do to Lydia, what she wants Lydia to do to her.

 Lydia opens her mouth in a wordless 'oh', and comes. She breathes out in harsh gasps, trying not to moan as Allison whispers approval in her ear and continues to work her, teasing out the aftershocks, calling forth wave after wave of pleasure until Lydia's body has none more left to give. She lays limp in Allison's arms, thoroughly satiated and drained. 

 For a while they don't say anything, just lying there tangled in each other. The next person who speaks is Lydia, saying, a little muzzily, "Gimme a minute and I'll, y'know. Reciprocate."

 Allison laughs. "You don't have to. Seriously, no obligation. I had fun. It doesn't have to be a thing. Like you said. We don't have to be. Um. So."

 "But like."

 "Yeah?"

 "But like from time to time. It can be a thing." Lydia waves a dismissive hand. "If we want. Just not like a  _thing_  thing."

 "Yeah?"

 "'Cos that was like. I mean. And you were, wow."

 "Thank you," Allison smiles.

 Lydia covers Allison's hand with her own and laces their fingers together. "I'm glad you and your family moved here."

 Allison's smile fades just a little bit, and her heart twists. She manages a "Yeah." She doesn't trust herself to say more.

 She squeezes Lydia's hand, and Lydia squeezes it back. They continue lying tangled with each other, and Allison falls into a light doze. A few minutes later, Lydia wakes her up again and, true to her word, she reciprocates. 

 


End file.
